The River (13 page)

R
uth was in a cloud, still reeling from her peculiar conversation with Will.
“
Go
far
from
home
,
and
you
’
ll
have
a
long
road
back
,”
he’d quoted, and its truth rang in her ears.

While her parents enjoyed visiting, she had been meandering through the meadow and was heading back toward the house when she spotted her sister riding with Will. As Tilly got down from his open carriage, Ruth couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Was her sister having a change of heart? And had Will already decided against spending time with Arie?

Bemused by this odd turn of events, Ruth waited for Tilly to come this way. “Looks like you got yourself a ride,” Ruth greeted her.
A silly thing to
say
.

“Will talked me into it,” Tilly answered, waving to him as he backed out of the lane. “Thanks again, Will,” she called after him. Then, lowering her voice, Tilly said, “Merely courtesy on his part.”

Ruth wasn’t convinced. “Did he say anything I should know about?”

“He didn’t mention you, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Tilly reached for her, slipping her arm around Ruth’s slight shoulders. “Would you like to go for a walk with me? It’s been a very unusual Lord’s Day.”

“Weren’t you feeling well this morning? Aunt Naomi mentioned something.”

Tilly said she hadn’t slept much.

“I had trouble, too. Probably not for the same reason, though.” Ruth glanced toward their brother’s house.

“How’s Daed seem today?” Tilly asked.

“He came to Preaching service, so I guess he’s feeling some better. Right now he’s over talking to Chester and Allen, if you want to see for yourself.”

“No, I want to talk to
you
.”

Ruth nodded. “Wait just a moment, and I’ll tell Mamm I won’t be riding back with them.”

In a few minutes, Ruth returned and mentioned that Mamm seemed tired and was looking forward to a nap.

“Sounds like a good time for our walk,” Tilly said, as if urging her away.

“Fine with me.”
She’s
got something in mind. . . .

Together, they headed out to the two-lane road. Ruth remembered how, before Anna had died, the three of them often walked home from house church, Tilly and Ruth taking turns carrying Anna when her little legs grew tired. It had been a time of harmony and quiet rejoicing.

Not so now. There was something bothering Tilly. Ruth saw the way her sister was working her jaw. “You all right?”

“I thought I was . . . but . . .” Tilly paused, then began again. “I just have a lot on my mind—it’s nothing at all about Will, though.” Tilly gave her a sideways glance. “Did you end up talking to him, after all?”

“Oh, we talked, all right.” Ruth had memorized everything he’d said . . . especially that he’d never forgotten her.

They walked without saying more for a time. Then Tilly said, “If Kris doesn’t mind, I’m going to stay and help you and Mamm with the move.”

Ruth was thrilled. “I’m happy to hear it. But also surprised.”

Tilly shrugged. “Honestly, I’m worried you’ll fall right into your former beau’s arms if I leave you here alone, Ruthie. There, I said it. Are you mad as a hornet?”

She shook her head. “There’s so much you’ve missed today.” Ruth began to share what had transpired between her and Will behind the barn . . . his talk of a spiritual rebirth, for one, and even his introduction of his Ohio friend, Arie Schlabach.

“Goodness, you’re right. I missed a lot.”

“Well, I hope you won’t decide to head home tomorrow now that I’m safely out of Will’s grasp.”

“No, I want to stay put.”

Ruth felt ever so good about this. “We’ll have Mamm and Daed moved and settled in no time.”

Squinting into the sunshine, Tilly seemed to agree. “I may sound conflicted, considering what I said when we first arrived here, but I think it was a good thing, our coming.”

“In many ways.”

Tilly didn’t reply to that, and Ruth was deeply touched when her sister reached for her hand. It was very much like old times.
Almost.

They walked a long ways without speaking. Was Tilly reliving their growing-up years, too?

The old woodlot was coming up on the left. Ruth had always obeyed their father and resisted the urge to take a shortcut through there. Daed had certainly been smothering
in his approach to raising daughters, never seeming to let them out of his sight, but she’d tried very hard to mind him. “There’s that spooky wood,” she said, wondering what Tilly might say about it.

“It’s not spooky, for pity’s sake . . . whatever Daed says.” Tilly rolled her eyes like a pair of marbles. “I’ve gone that way plenty of times, even explored it some for critter holes.”

Ruth sucked in air. “You have?”

“Always the rebel, I guess.”

Ruth wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never thought of you that way. Why do you?”

“Maybe because that’s how Daed thought of me . . . and still does.” Tilly shook her head. “My sins didn’t have to find me out; Daed always did. He was always on the alert for any misstep.”

Ruth wished now she hadn’t brought any of this up. The last thing she wanted to do was remind Tilly of her difficult childhood.

When they arrived at the house, Ruth was glad to just sit in her room with Tilly and talk further about their parents’ move next door. More relaxed now, Tilly sat cross-legged on the bed while Ruth perched on a chair near the dresser.

“It’ll be interesting to see how much Mamm wants to cut back on furnishings and whatnot,” Tilly said. “This house has nearly a lifetime of accumulation . . . and that’s not including the attic.”

“Good thing they have a larger
Dawdi Haus
than some families do.”

“Wonder if Mamm will keep Anna’s things in her room
here—or at all. It’s like she has a shrine up here behind locked doors.”

Ruth ran her hand through her hair, feeling glum. “I really don’t know what Mamm will do about that. There’s not enough space to set up a room full of just Anna’s things next door.” She wondered if that would be the most difficult part of the move for Mamm.

“Are you okay?” Tilly touched her sister’s arm.

“Honestly, being home again and talking to Will today has set me back some. I never thought . . .”

“What, that you might still have feelings for him?”

Ruth looked away, toward the window. “Feelings of frustration, mostly. He acts like he did before we broke up. Confident one moment, and mixed up the next.” She shook her head. “I doubt he knows what he wants in life, even now. Well, I should say,
who
he wants.”

Tilly nodded and patted the bed beside her. “Come sit with me, sister.”

Ruth saw the concern in her sister’s eyes and went to sit at the head of the bed, smooshing the pretty pillows.

“You know, there are only so many people who will love us during our lives,” Tilly said softly. “But even so, there are some we’d do well to simply forget.”

Ruth sighed. “I realize that . . . believe me, I do.”

Melvin had been perplexed when he saw Tilly come riding into Allen’s driveway with Will Kauffman at the reins. Such an interesting day. First, Ruth had hightailed it out of the house after that young man, and then later, Tilly waved and smiled at the selfsame fellow, thanking him for the ride.

Why is
it that Tilly wants to make nice with the Kauffman
boy? Surely not for Ruthie’s sake . . .

Melvin’s thoughts were in a tangle as he drove Susannah home, leaving Caleb and Benny to fend for themselves, wherever they’d headed off to. Melvin presumed Caleb had likely hitched a ride with one of the older courting-age fellows. As for Benny, Melvin hoped he wasn’t crouched somewhere behind the stable, lighting up a cigar on the Lord’s Day.
Wouldn’t put it past either of them.

“Awful nice seein’ Ruthie at church again,” Susannah said as they passed Bishop Isaac’s house. “Ain’t so?”

“It was.”

“A little odd, I’ll admit, seein’ her in
Englischer
’
s clothes at church, no less, and all dolled up, her hair cut off to her shoulders.”

He had to agree, even though he wouldn’t have expected otherwise. “At least my sisters are still mindful of modesty, unlike some outsiders.”

“Well, your mother raised her girls right on that account.”

“And there’s no blame on her for their choices, either. If a person’s blessed enough to grow up Plain, it’s up to them to earnestly choose that life.” He sighed loudly. “Or another one.”

Susannah turned to face him, eyes wide. “You sound rather casual ’bout Tilly and Ruth leavin’.”

“Ain’t that a’tall. The heart’s the key, ya know. We all have to choose—one way or t’other.”

“Still, it ain’t right to just dismiss someone makin’ the wrong decision,
jah
?”

His lovely wife sometimes spoke her mind. Melvin knew other husbands amongst the People who would have flat-out
rebuked her for such spunk, but he was glad for Susannah’s opinion.

“Every one of us will stand before the Lord God on the Judgment Day,” he said. “The intent of our hearts will be determined by the Almighty—and no one else.”

Susannah sat up straighter on the carriage seat beside him. “Those who tend to judge here on earth are just wastin’ their time and breath,” she remarked sagely.

How he loved his
schmaert
wife! He reached over and clasped her dear hand. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Susannah gave him a sweet smile, but as they drove home, he could not shake the feeling that something was hovering in the air, about to stir things up—something involving Wilmer Kauffman.

R
uth stood near her old bedroom window, looking out at the farmland as she brushed her hair. Tilly was still relaxing on the bed, droopy eyed.

“See the little nick right here?” She stopped brushing and pointed to the small notch. “Will Kauffman tossed a pebble one night, six months after I started going to Singings.”

“You were just sixteen?”

Ruth nodded her head. “Way too young for a proposal.”

“He should’ve known better,” Tilly said disdainfully.

Ruth didn’t blame her; she was still feeling torn about her own encounter with Will today. “He said that night I was the girl for him. Even hinted that the Lord was in it.”

“But now, of course, things have changed so much for you both. Everything, really.” Tilly scooted near the edge of the bed.

Ruth agreed, though she struggled with the possibility that Will must be living in a fantasy world. “He actually started talking like he wanted me back today—but only for a moment. It was the strangest thing. Like old times.”

“Maybe he wishes it but can’t follow through.”

Ruth didn’t know. Certainly the noticeable way he’d come alive when Arie appeared seemed to point to a young man who was quite befuddled.
How
long did Arie observe us?
Ruth wondered even now.

She heard soft humming—one of the hymns sung at Preaching—and Mamm’s familiar gait on the wide plank floor. Ruth had left her door ajar, and she could see Mamm putting a key in the lock across the hall.

“Mamm?” she called.

“Just thought since both you girls are here, I should open up Anna’s room.” Their mother didn’t turn to look at them, just unlocked the door, then gently pushed it open.

Filled with curiosity, Ruth moved toward the doorway of her own room. Then, thinking better of it, she turned and motioned for Tilly to come, too, moving aside to let Tilly go first, since she was older.

Entering the room was like stepping back in time. Anna’s faceless cloth dolls, in various sizes and colors, sat on the bed, one still perched on the wooden rocking chair where it had always been.

Mamm ran a finger across the dresser and murmured, “Even though no one uses it, I like to keep this room nicely dusted . . . ’specially clean, ya know.”

Tilly was silent, and Ruth glanced at her.

“But I left everything as it was—even her clothing,” Mamm said, as if making a confession of sorts. She inched her way across the room like it was hallowed ground. “Other than me, no one’s been in here for a long time. ’Course that’s all going to have to change with the move.” She sighed loud enough to be heard and reached up with a trembling hand to touch the little dresses on hangers distributed across the four wood
pegs. Everyday dresses with matching aprons and for-good dresses with one white organdy apron for Sundays.

Tilly sniffled, and Ruth did her a favor and didn’t look her way. Knowing her sister, if they made eye contact, it would make things harder for them both.

Ruth looked at the bed quilt, one Mamm had made years ago. “Wasn’t this Anna’s favorite?” she asked, treading lightly.

“
Jah
, she thought it was the prettiest pattern,” Mamm replied, her composure intact. “Double Nine Patch.”

Ruth hadn’t heard that quilt pattern mentioned since she’d gone to Rockport, and hearing it now made her feel cheerless. It was the pattern they’d worked on at her first-ever quilting bee, over on Mammi Lantz’s big quilting frame.

“Anna liked the reds and blues in this one,” Tilly said softly.

“The brighter, the better,” Mamm agreed, standing over near the window.

Just then Daed’s voice broke the ponderous moment as he called to Ruth and Mamm from the bottom of the stairs. Mamm gestured for Ruth to join her, and they hurried into the hall. Ruth wondered why Daed hadn’t included Tilly. Didn’t he know she’d walked home with Ruth?

———

By the tone of Daed’s voice, Tilly assumed that someone had dropped by to visit. She stepped to the window in Anna’s room and saw her brother Joseph below, and his wife, Rachel, holding their baby. They were outside sitting in their gray family carriage and talking with her parents and Ruthie.

Daed must think I’m spending the afternoon at
Uncle Abner and Aunt Naomi’s,
she realized, watching as Joseph conversed with Daed. She’d never forgotten how outraged Joseph was when she’d announced she was leaving Eden Valley. Tilly
wondered now if her brother’s indignation would find its way to her ears yet again.

“Maybe that’s why he’s stopped by,” she muttered, suddenly overwhelmed, especially here, alone in Anna’s room. Turning away from the window, she went to the top drawer of the dresser and quietly opened it. She held her breath at the sight of the remainder of her little sister’s clothing folded neatly inside.
Mamm can’t part with them
,
Tilly thought.

She’d never forgotten how endearing Anna looked after she was snug in her little pink cotton nightgowns, ready to be tucked in. How many times had they sat nestled on this very bed, leaning into the soft, plump pillows and reading Anna’s favorite Bible stories?

Finding two nightgowns she had sewn herself, Tilly held first one, then the next up to the light, letting the sunshine hit them.
Remnants of a short life,
she thought.
Too
short, because of my negligence.

The room was as familiar as Tilly’s own reflection in a mirror, and she carefully refolded the gowns and returned them to the drawer. Pausing, she thought better of opening the next drawer . . . and the next. Not with Mamm so protective of the room and its contents. What would her mother think of her, prowling about?

But stepping to the window again and seeing her family still outdoors together, she returned to the dresser and dared to open the second drawer. There, on the right side, she saw a wooden box. She reached slowly to open the lid and peered down at a single envelope with her mother’s handwriting on the front, lying against the dark blue velvet lining.

Daed helped Anna
make this little box,
she recalled.

Looking more closely at the letter, she saw that her mother had written Tilly’s name on the front.

To be opened after I
die
was written at the bottom.

What on earth?
“A death letter?” Tilly whispered, holding it reverently. “Why?”

Her heart pounding, she stepped to the window once more, feeling breathless. The horse and carriage were backing out of the driveway, and Daed, Mamm, and Ruth were no longer in sight.

Frozen with disbelief, she stood there, aware of her racing pulse. Then, just when she thought she might need to sit down, Tilly heard voices coming into the kitchen. Soon Mamm, at least, would return to lock up Anna’s room.

Not wanting to risk being found snooping, Tilly placed the letter back inside the little wooden box and closed it.